


But I Belong to You

by Miss_Deyora_Ash



Category: Led Zeppelin
Genre: Driving around Morocco, M/M, jimbert - Freeform, totally not inspired by Kashmir, writing songs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:53:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23637868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Deyora_Ash/pseuds/Miss_Deyora_Ash
Summary: Of course Jimmy's in love with Robert - he mostly wonders how not everyone is. He also wonders why he chooses to do things he knows will hurt him in the long run.
Relationships: Jimmy Page/Robert Plant
Comments: 12
Kudos: 51





	But I Belong to You

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Led Zeppelin. This fic is just for fun. You know, all that.  
> The first oneshot I ever posted online, but still somewhat happy with it which is why I'm posting a slightly altered version here now as well.  
> English is my second language, so any strange uses of words are due to that.

**But I Belong to You**

  
On stage Robert Plant is a Golden God, the ideal frontman. Audiences eat out of the palm of his hand, he provides the salvation they scream for. Jimmy can hardly stop looking at him, smiling widely whenever he does, because the vision in front of him is so beautiful, so perfect. Off stage the rockstar disappears and Robert instead skips through life with a happiness that Jimmy cannot hope to ever understand. A flower child, beautiful and pure and full of light.

Of course Jimmy is in love with him. How could he not be? He mostly wonders how not everybody is. And as they drive through the dusty heat of Morocco he cannot help but sneak a glance at him. Jimmy’s curled up in his seat, hair covering his face, pretending to be asleep. Instead he peers out from behind the dark curls at his best friend. Robert is a good driver, though his foot is a little heavy on the accelerator. His hair shines golden in the setting sun and his ringed fingers tap lightly on the steering wheel to the beat of the music on the radio. He hums along softly, a small smile playing around his lips. Occasionally he will turn to look at Jimmy, and one time he reaches out to remove a strand of hair from his face. Jimmy’s breath catches as he feels the soft fingers on his cheek, and he quickly closes his eyes again.

“I know you’re awake,” Robert says, and Jimmy gives up because he knows he’s been caught. He sits up, tucks his hair behind his ears.

“I was trying to sleep,” he lies. Robert smirks a bit. His lips are chapped but Jimmy knows they’d be soft against his own despite that. Not that he’s ever gotten the chance to feel them in such a way, only against his cheeks and forehead, but that’s enough. A lie – that would never be enough – but it’s enough to know and that’s what he meant. “Are we nearly at the hotel?”

Robert hums. “I told you we’d sleep in the car tonight.”

“I thought you were joking,” Jimmy says with a groan. Robert grins, a wild thing. Oh yes, that’s another thing. Robert is so much more than a flower child. He’s wild by nature, a free spirit always looking for the next place to roam, never settling down. He never will either, Jimmy knows. Always moving on. A Tolkien elf in human form maybe, never quite at home and constantly looking to the western shores, and falling for him is asking for heartbreak. “Do you want me to drive for a bit?”

Cheerfully Robert replies, “And die? No thank you Pagey.”

“I’m not that bad a driver.”

“Yes, you are.” His tone brokers no disagreement and Jimmy gives in. In music he might be the leader, but every other time Robert decides. He has a point anyway. Jimmy prefers to have a chauffeur, only got his license a year ago. He looks at the younger man again, stares at him really. The sun has set almost completely now, but the last rays still illuminate his features. He isn’t perfect, not really – his nose not exactly straight, his chin slightly too big. Jimmy thinks he is the most beautiful person in the world anyway.

He still remembers the first time he saw Robert perfectly. A tiny club in the Black Country, a band that was good but nowhere close to great. But at its front a youth in a psychedelic blouse and tight bellbottoms with the voice of an angel. No, that’s bollocks. Robert never had the voice of an angel, though he could mimic it in their softer songs. He had a voice like a male Janis Joplin, screaming and wailing his heart out to rhythm and blues classics. An unpolished diamond. From the very first moment Jimmy knew he was perfect. Too perfect, and for a moment he feared there was something wrong with him, something that made it impossible to work with him. Because after all why else would he not be famous yet, his pretty face gracing a million album covers? The fear was soon abated, for Robert was charming and clever, sweet and witty, enthusiastic and naive.

If Jimmy is honest with himself he fell in love with Robert the first time he spoke with him, and it has only gotten worse over time. Back then Robert was barely more than a kid, innocence radiating from every movement he made. His hair fell just past his jaw and his features were soft. He had been so surprised the first time a groupie propositioned him, Jimmy remembered.   
That innocence is mostly gone now. Robert is a man, not the youth he was back then, with hair on his chest and jeans so tight they hide nothing. He’s grown his hair out, but that is the only thing more feminine about him now than back then. Jimmy has no excuses left, but he has long since accepted that too. And Robert was no longer shy around the girls, or around anyone really. A father twice over and a married man. Now it sounds like he had changed completely, but of course he had not.

“Will you talk to me? I’m bored!” Jimmy is startled out of his musings by the exclamation, and giggles a bit. No, Robert certainly hasn’t changed too much. He can still be as childish as ever.

“I think we should park at the next rest stop. I’ve got some weed left.”

“And I thought I was the hippie,” Robert jokes.

“Would you rather me smoke it while you’re driving?”

Robert doesn’t bother to answer, instead moving on to the next topic. “It’s cooling down now. Better than this afternoon, I could hardly stand the heat. We need to get the air conditioning in this car fixed.”

“That sign said the next rest stop is in half a kilometer. It’s to the right, probably the first exit.”

“I know, I saw it too. Will you play guitar tonight? I got an idea for lyrics, I'll sing for you.” He wiggles his eyebrows and laughs. Jimmy shakes his head at the suggested innuendo. Of course he will play if that means Robert will sing.

“Here, don’t miss the exit.”

“I know, would you stop!” The rest stop is empty thankfully, and Robert parks the car across three spaces, stops the engine, jumps out. “Thank god, I was getting sick of driving.” He stretches out, hands reaching towards the sky. His shirt rides up a bit, and Jimmy swallows thickly at the strip of tan skin that appears. He gets up quickly as well, grabs his acoustic and a joint. Robert’s climbed up onto the roof of the car. He reaches out a hand to pull Jimmy up as well. His hand is warm, and Jimmy doesn’t want to let go.

“You first,” he says, and holds up the joint. Robert wraps his lips around it, and never before has that gesture seemed to erotic. He holds his hair back with two hands, and Jimmy lights the joint for him. “So, what lyrics did you get?”

He passes the joint and now Jimmy takes a drag. “Play something for me first.” Jimmy complies, quickly tuning the guitar and then improvising melodies that talk of the sun bearing down on them until they're tan and sweaty, of the dust in their eyes and on their skin, of how Robert's hair looks in the desert light. His companion listens, eyes closed and smiling. Plucks the joint from Jimmy's mouth when he wants to take a drag, placing it back when he's done so they will get high at the same pace. It's intimate and fills Jimmy with the urge to take his fingers into his mouth instead. He finishes the melody sometime later, pleasantly high already. Robert looks at him like he's seen god. The only time Jimmy feels like he lives up to that is when he's playing, so it works out. "Your turn," he says, before it lasts too long and he becomes undeserving instead.

Robert takes another drag before he starts singing. “Oh let the sun beat down upon my face, stars to fill my dream. I am a traveler of both time and space, to be where I have been.” He holds out the joint for Jimmy to take a drag again, and he does, lips lightly touching the blonde’s fingers. Then continues singing, and when he stops this time Jimmy knows it’s all he’s got for now. The joint’s kicking in, and he puts the guitar down against the side of the car, lies back on the roof.

“You can see the stars very well here.”

Robert looks at him, all excited, and lays back as well. The end of the joint lights up the night, but besides that their only light comes from the stars and moon. “You know the constellations right?”

In a pleasant haze Jimmy points some out to him. The basic ones – big and little dipper, Cassiopeia. He laughs when he recognizes another. “There’s you,” he says, still giggling. “Leo.”

Robert laughs as well. “And Capricorn?”

“Not in the sky tonight.”

Robert goes strangely quiet, rolls over onto his side. Jimmy’s heartbeat speeds up when he feels Robert’s breath hot on his cheek. “At least you’re down here with me.”

Jimmy forces himself to meet the younger man’s eyes. Their noses nearly touch now, and it would be so very easy to move in, steal a kiss from those perfect lips. Everything has disappeared into a haze by now, and Jimmy hardly knows what he’s doing. He could blame it on the high.

“What are you doing,” Robert giggles, but he doesn’t move away, takes another drag of the joint only centimeters from Jimmy’s face.

“There’s hardly any left, let’s shotgun,” Jimmy hears himself say. Long fingers moves the joint out of the way and Robert breathes out in the space between them, a long stream Jimmy almost forgets to breathe in. Robert offers him the joint next, and he takes one last drag, finishing it off. Tilts Robert’s chin up with his fingers and breathes out the smoke into his friend’s slightly opened mouth, and it’s not like he’s ever been good at resisting temptation. He covers those lips with his own.

He was right, Robert’s lips are soft. For a moment neither of them move, but Jimmy knows Robert won’t push him away. Maybe this was inevitable from the start, a future set in stone the moment they first played together. Maybe Jimmy was always meant to catch his angel, only so he would be hurt more when he has to let him go. A day, a month, a year – he supposes happiness is fleeting anyway.

And indeed, Robert’s tongue darts out, and Jimmy opens his mouth, meets him halfway. And then they’re kissing passionately. Robert lifts himself up with one hand, other hand warm on his cheek, licks into his mouth. Jimmy tangles his hands into the other’s blonde curls, pulls him even closer.

Then it goes wrong – Robert’s hand slips, he collapses onto Jimmy and then they both fall off the car. They laugh, hardly feel the pain, and then their eyes meet and they quiet down again. They lay there for a while. It could be a minute or an hour before they get up and dust themselves off. Jimmy doesn’t bother with words, just opens the backseat of the car and puts a hand on Robert’s chest, gently guiding him towards it.

“There’s no way we’re both gonna fit in there,” his friend whines when he realizes what Jimmy’s planning. “Come on Pagey, there’s no one around.”

There isn’t, no. Jimmy stares at him, stricken, not sure what to do. Robert laughs, fishes around in the backseat and comes up with a blanket, grinning triumphantly. He spreads it out in the sand and then turns, looks at Jimmy expectantly. “Come on.”

“Take off your clothes,” he murmurs. Robert obeys, almost eagerly. Jimmy wishes he was more high, that he could forget what he was doing, but the haze is quickly slipping away now. One joint doesn’t do too much for them anymore. Robert is fully naked and kneeling in front of him, utterly unashamed. A true lion, too proud to act coy. Jimmy kneels down too, kisses those lips again. Robert’s clever fingers move down to the hem of his shirt and pull it up. They break the kiss for a moment to get it off, but then they meet again, even more passionate than before. Jimmy loses his trousers at some point, and their bare skin touches. He presses Robert down onto the blanket, traces the unmarred skin of his chest. Robert hisses when he moves his hand down and grabs his member, bucks his hips. Jimmy moves his hand up and down slowly.

“Jimmy,” the younger man moans out, and then he grabs Jimmy’s wrist to stop him. “I want you inside me.”

He freezes, not sure what to do. “Are you sure?”

Robert moans out, arches his back like some goddamn groupie. “Fuck me, Pagey.”

And how could Jimmy ever refuse such a request? He presses his fingers against Robert’s lips. “Suck, Percy.” Robert does so, not even protesting the use of the nickname. His tongue feels heavenly, but Jimmy reluctantly pulls his hand away again, moves it down and delves between the blonde’s legs. He’s suddenly very glad he’s done this with birds before, that he know what to do. Robert hisses when he presses a finger in. “Does it hurt?” he asks in concern.

“Not too bad,” Robert denies. Jimmy’s pretty sure it’s a lie, but Robert’s heat is so inviting he ignores it and instead presses in a second finger. “Ow!”

“Do you want me to stop? Tell me if you want me to stop.”

“I want you, just take me.”

“You can barely take two of my fingers and now you want me to fuck you? Are you insane, Percy?”

“Quite. Now come on, the birds end up liking it, no?”

“Be patient,” Jimmy snaps. He twists around his fingers, pressing them in and out, and from Robert’s moan he knows he did something right. “See, it’ll be better if we wait a little.” He adds a third finger to another pained yelp from his lover and wraps his other hand around his cock, hoping to distract him.

“Oh god yes, like that Pagey, please,” Robert moans out, and Jimmy laughs at the cries. He pulls out and removes his hand. “What’d you do that for?”

“You wanted me to fuck you, didn’t ya? Come on, turn around, it’ll be better.” He tugs at Robert’s shoulders until the younger man rolls over, shaking a bit, and gets up on his hands and knees. He spits in his hand and rubs it onto his cock. It would be better if they had lotion, but he’ll make do. He grabs Robert’s hip and presses in in one smooth motion.

Robert cries out, in earnest pain this time. “Wait, stop, just-” He would probably feel guilty if it didn’t feel so good. Instead he shushes the blonde, caresses his side and presses kisses to his shoulder blades, making small movement with his hips. “It hurts,” Robert whimpers in a way that Jimmy does not want to admit goes straight to his cock.

“I’m sorry,” Jimmy says. He's not, but he's sorry he isn't sorry.

Robert knows him too well. “Liar. It turns you on.” Jimmy doesn’t reply, presses another kiss to his spine. “Okay, it’s getting better now. Move.”

“Don’t order me around,” Jimmy says, but complies anyway. He wishes he could see what Robert looked like now, wonders if there are tears on those smooth cheeks, if his mouth is open, if he looks as debauched as Jimmy imagines.

He angles his hips a bit and is rewarded with a loud moan and Robert pressing his arse back. “Come on, I’m not some fragile bird. Fuck me already!”

Then there’s no more talking, only moans and cries and the slapping of skin on skin. Robert’s tight and hot around him, and he reaches around to stroke the singer’s cock in time with his thrusts. With a cry of his name Robert comes and collapses onto the blanket. Jimmy thrusts into him a few more time and then savagely bites down on his shoulder as he reaches the top as well. Robert doesn’t even yelp, just whimpers. “I love you,” he whispers into the younger man’s hair before rolling off of him.

They curl up together, ignore Robert’s sticky release on the blanket and Jimmy’s running down Robert’s legs. “I love you too,” Robert eventually says, tracing patterns on Jimmy’s bare shoulder. He kisses him softly. Then he shifts, and despite the dark Jimmy can see him frown. He strokes the singer’s cheek. “Are you okay? I’m sorry I hurt you.”

Robert kisses him again. “It’s fine. It’s just that there’s sand everywhere. Jimmy?”

“Yes?”

“I think there’s sand in my arse and your come is dripping out of me. And I’m cold.” He says it all in such a whiny tone that Jimmy can’t help but laugh. Robert makes an indignant sound, so he kisses his forehead soothingly and gets up, grabs a towel and another blanket. He gently cleans the younger man up and then covers the both of them with the blanket.

“Is that better?”

“Much better,” Robert affirms, and he snuggles closer to him.

There is no moment of disorientation when Jimmy wakes up. The whole thing feels too natural for that, like Robert is meant to be there in his arms. The blonde is still asleep, and Jimmy carefully studies his face in the morning light, taking in every detail of the scene. He looks so peaceful, so beautiful, and what did Jimmy ever do right to deserve such perfection next to him?  
Robert blinks, opens his eyes, so very blue. “You’re beautiful,” Jimmy says without thinking, and Robert smiles as if he’s never been complimented before.

“Good morning,” Robert says sleepily, yawns. “You’re also, you know?” Jimmy almost laughs at that, but something in Robert’s eyes tells him he means it.

“What will we do now?” he ventures.

Robert frowns. “Same as always. Make music, fight, talk.”

“And what of us?” Robert doesn’t say anything, and Jimmy eventually answers his own question. “Nobody can know.”

“And will we do this again then?” Robert asks. He sits up with a wince and prods at his shoulder, where a bite mark is still clearly visible. “You marked me,” he says accusingly. Jimmy reaches out and puts a hand on it, pressing his thumb into the bruise harshly. Robert yelps and pulls away. “Don’t do that!”

“I’m sorry.”

“No you’re not!”

“No, I’m not,” Jimmy admits grinning widely. Robert shakes his head with an incredulous look. He gets up, stretches out, all golden skin and muscles. Jimmy can’t look away, feels himself get hard again.

“It’s okay, though,” Robert says, purrs almost, and he slides himself back into Jimmy’s lap. “You can mark me. I’m yours, if you want me.”

Oh, and isn’t that the most painful lie in the world? This is what happens when you know somebody better than they know themselves, Jimmy supposes. “You’re nobody’s,” he tells the Golden God. “But for now I would be yours.” And with those words he steals another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> I think Robert is a very free spirit, and that he's never been able to truly settle down. Jimmy here knows this but decides to risk it anyway. I tend to interpret him as the sort of person to weigh everything rationally and then do what has the potential to hurt him the most.  
> The two did travel around Morocco in the seventies. I don't know if they ever slept outside. I don't know when Jimmy actually got his driving license. I also did not check what star signs would be visible when they were there.


End file.
